Summer Nights
by PhantomLilac
Summary: Growing up in the 1800's rural America, Christine is a child growing up on a farm with her childhood best friend, Meg Giry. On the other hand, Meg's cousin Erik from the city moves in after a tragic accident mars his face. Facing a childhood together, Christine and Erik might just learn what true love means...but will a middle-class boy named Raoul attempt to get in the way?E/C&D/M
1. Chapter 1 - Tale of Two Cities

**A/N: I know I said I was going to post "Jewels in Persia", but I decided to postpone that story until after a few fanfics I write.**

**Let me explain the inspiration for this story. You're going to think it's cheesy, but who cares? It's inspiration!**

**Earlier this afternoon I was reading Anne of Green Gables, Rebecca of Sunnybrooke Farm, and watching Phantom of the Opera at Royal Albert Hall. When I got to school and was out on the track, I realized how bright and warm it was, and the country breeze blew by and felt really refreshing. I began to picture if Christine and Erik were young and lived on farms in the late 1800s America (I live in Kansas, so Kansas seemed to be a perfect setting). So I felt that I just HAD to write this fanfic. I'm not sure if anyone else has attempted a fanfiction about POTO like this, if not, yay for originality~ :3**

.::.

**Christine**

People say that during the summer, nights are cooler and softer. I never really appreciated the night. It would not be until much later I entered and explored a whole world of nighttime.

I was eight years old and lived on a farm in Kansas with my papa. Papa says my Mama died when I was two years old, so I wouldn't remember her. The only thing I have in memory is a photograph of her. She was very pretty. She was so pretty, I wish I looked like Mama.

Our farm was across the way from the farm of the Giry's. Madame Giry, as she was french and preferred to be called "Madame" over "Mrs," was a short, stocky woman with black hair usually in a bun or braid. She was the same age as my papa, maybe a year or two younger. Her husband got sick and died like my Mama, both were said to have caught an illness going around in the air.

We lived, by horse, an hour away from town. People say that inventors are working on a metal horse carriage called an "automobile." Weird, right? My horses names were Sable and Annie.

My best friend was Meg Giry, the little blonde girl across the farm who lived so close nearby, she and I could do everything together.

I would not learn later of her mysterious cousin from New York until finally one day, Madame Giry told my Papa that her nephew would be permanently staying with her. I peeped into the conversation.

"My dreadful sister beat him with a torch across the face-if he comes here wearing a mask tell Christine not to question him," she said. I never saw her ever so stern.

"Madame," I intruded innocently, "what's your nephew's name?"

She smiled for a moment, thinking.

"I believe, if I remember, his name is Erik. I don't know if you'll like him, he's very shy."

I asked Meg about her cousin more, growing evermore curious about this strange, malformed boy coming to stay.

"Mother says that Erik has part of his face burned. I've met my Aunt Madeleine before, she's a terribly wicked woman, I hope she isn't staying with us either. My cousin Erik is very nice but has a temper so don't tease him," Meg warned. Then they went to town. I picked bright red, crisp and fresh apples for the mysterious, unknown cousin I'd never heard of from the Giry's. Then, I took Lavender and Wildflowers and strewn them around the weaved basket for the fruits to lay upon.

"Perfect!" I said gleefully, and skipped all the way back to the house.

.::.

**Erik**

I stared out the window of the train for a long time from my private box, rubbing my burned, achy cheek with my fingertips. My mother, I had thought, was the most beautiful person in the world. Most beautiful...but an evil woman. I was glad she decided to send me to my wonderful aunt and cousin, who would give me work and a home and love. Three things I enjoyed in life.

I needed to work the most. I wanted to buy a piano. Mother forbade me from singing or showing her my musical talents, for she believed only the devil supplies those with supernaturally beautiful voices. It was then, when I dared to sing in defiance, right in front of her friend, Miss Perrault, she threw me to the ground and left me this deformed scar along my cheek.

My fingers brushed the wound, that hideous scar that came from from my forward, curved along my cheek, and burned its way down to my jawline, where it ended there. Around the pale pink flesh were irreparably dry, hardened and drum-tight skin, which ruined my perfect, whole, unharmed face. Sure, it could've been worse, but I was scared to death of my own mother now.

My father died before I was born. Most of my family's fathers or mothers died before the descendants get to know them. Aunt Antoinette's...well, she preferred I call her Madame Giry, husband died when Meg was five, and thus, my younger cousin was unable to recall anything about her papa. I had been told by Meg once about a new girl across the farm named Christine. I was intrigued by the concept of a Swedish family settling in America to farm. But then again, my family were french settlers a few generations back, so what position was I in to complain?

I thought again about my mother, and smiled, knowing I would never see that vile excuse of a parent ever again.

I was nine years old when all this happened.

When at last the train stopped, I put my mask back on top of my face, shyly collecting my bags and spotting my relatives ahead. They smiled warmly, hugged me and told me useless things like, "I'm sorry about your mum." I'm sorry would never heal the gaping wound left in my heart, the betrayal of trust I had felt just days before...

We arrived at last at the farm. I marveled at the familiar dew droplets collected upon the bright green grass, the babbling, sparkling brook that cut across nearby, and my favorite, the big trees around the edges of the property. We were greeted at last, by the Daae family.

This young, brown-haired girl, about my age, had a basket in her hand.

"Hej, Mister Erik! Jag heter Christine, hur är du?" she said sweetly. I tilted my head, and then said, "Pardon, I don't speak Swedish."

She giggled, handing me the basket, to which I glanced down to find the purest apples and the most wonderful flowers ever to be found decking the little, pale gold woven gift.

"I said, Hello Mister Erik! I'm Christine, how are you?" Christine repeated for me. For once, I could find a way to smile in my usually dismal and dark attitude.

"Bonjour à vous aussi, little miss !" (A/N: what he says here is, "Hello to you too, little miss!) I teased in French. I would only be shocked when she would respond with...

"Vous êtes assez drôle, Erik. Bel essai."

I replayed that image in my head for years to come of this sassy, young, flirty girl named Christine, and how I learned she also spoke fluent French.

_Vous êtes assez drôle, Erik. Bel essai. You are very funny Erik. Nice try._

Wow. I was stunned. Mister Daae nudged Christine.

"Don't show off to Erik, darling, it's rude." he whispered, but with my sharp hearing I heard it.

"No sir, I'm fine. I was just surprised she also spoke French fluently. Did you spend time in France?" When he nodded, I smiled back, but his gaze was full of knowing and wisdom beyond this moment. Beyond this time.

I would hope to have a fun and friendly childhood right here with Christine and Meg.


	2. Chapter 2 - Forgive and Forget

**A/N: Sorry it's a bit late, I had practices for the musical I'm in (I'm playing Veruca Salt in Willy Wonka), and I am home sick :P**

**However, please enjoy this chapter :D**

**And a third side note, I know things go by very quickly in this chapter but I don't intend on this being too long a story. Sorry, folks. I'm losing inspiration for a lot of fanfics recently :(**

.::.

**Christine**

Early on in the morn', I walked across the road to Meg's home. Up on the big old hickory tree by their little white house, was Erik, one foot swinging down off a high branch while he bit into one of the apples I had given him the day before.

"Hallo, Erik!" I called, grinning. He smiled and waved back.

"Bonjour, Christine Daae," he responded, covering his mouth to keep chewing on his apple, "What brings you at dawn today?"

I thought about this for a moment, remembering the story my father told me about the farm girl Lotte and how she awakens when the sun peaks at the horizon's touch.

"Oh. I always suppose I come to play with Meg before papa needs me to go feed the chickens."

He spit out a seed, licking his lips as he let the core drop down beside the tree trunk.

"Well, have fun, I guess then." he mumbled, closing his eyes and relaxing in the notch of the tree.

I scowled. He was absolutely no fun! I would've invited him to play but then again, he didn't seem to be the "playing type." He seemed more like that of a strict, antisocial schoolboy from a rich town. Then again, he was from a rich town, and a former schoolboy, so of course his knowledge skills would seem to be beyond my imagination.

I observed him from below, at the brown perch in which he had chosen to continue resting. His mask looked tight, but he didn't seem bothered by it. He must've known I was still watching him, for in amusement the corners of his lips began to curl and he smirked.

"Still here, Miss Daae?" he called up above.

Without another word, I dipped in a courteous bow and hurried to go get Meg to play. We decided to have a tea party with her china tea set, a gift that had been her elder sister's. Madame Giry had multiple children, but all of them were sent off to other aunts to attend school, only leaving Meg to run their small berry farm, but now that Erik was here, I was certain that he would lend a hand.

We listened quietly as my papa and Madame talked in the living room.

"Madeleine sent me another letter. She didn't send Erik here, he sent himself here, apparently," Madame Giry said, sounding frustrated and scared.

"Well, we certainly can't let that abusive woman take the poor boy home and get beaten senselessly, maybe even killed. Madeleine is an unsuitable mother, she shut be locked up for what she's done to the child." Papa said in a serious tone.

"I know, and I won't let her take him. He cried all night, Gustave, in a delusional stance thinking his mum was there, trying to hurt him, no matter how many times we tried to snap him out of it."

"It's official then. The boy is staying, and you tell Madeleine that I will stand beside you in court if we have to protect him. He's a formal, smart lad, he'll grow up to be a fine worker here and very successful. If he stayed with his mum, then he'll die, no doubt about that."

I turned to Meg when I heard Papa call for me. I hugged my friend and said our goodbyes, at least until nightfall when the two families cook and share a dinner. When I went across the dirt path and onto my sunny homeland again, I noticed something odd. Erik was talking to my papa, who handed him a knife and a basket.

"Hi Erik! Whatcha doing?"

When my papa left, I had squeaked those words at him.

"Oh, I asked your papa if I could help around the farm. I'm going to pick some apples," then shyly, he added, "do you want to help me?"

I nodded, running inside and retrieving my little apple knife papa had made for me. My papa was a mason and a musician, farming was not his top gear of knowledge, but because, he said he didn't have very much money, he can't make swords or play violin all the time.

I smiled again to Erik as I came outside, then I dipped in another bow and took his hand. He must not have expected me to interlace my hand with his, because he gulped almost nervously. I bit back a gasp. His fingers were evermore cold! Did he ever come outside and feel the sun on his arms? But then again, of course he does, because he was up on the tree, but what about his house with his mother?

.::.

**Erik**

This girl, this Christine, took my hand without hate or fear of me, or disgusting scorn such as my mother, instead she just wrapped her fingers with mine, not even showing any trace of resenting emotion. My hands had only ever been engulfed in darkness and fear, but now they felt warm and excited as she took me to her apple orchard. Oh gosh, there were so many, and so different amounts of apples. Reds, greens, golds, pinks! I stared for a long time in marvel.

I had never seen anything this beautiful! So, so very beautiful! I had only ever known the world of the night but at last I was seeing sunshine and sparkling summers.

This would be the day my world would change.

I felt happy. I never knew what happiness was until that very moment...

Christine was waving her hands in my face, snapping me out of my trance.

"Hello! Erik! Let's pick apples now!" she giggled. I blinked the dreaminess from my gaze, and flicked out the little knife, cutting at the stems connecting the rich, perfect fruits. These fruits, full of such knowledge and wisdom of the world. Everything was interconnected, as I saw it, and these were only just so beautiful.

My mother had refused to let me outside, saying I was "too supernatural to be from heaven." She believed that my powers of music had been granted by that of the devil himself, and when I defied her with anger and grief at her hurtful words, she took the carving knife and slashed my face. It was a miracle she could control herself after that, where she let me lie there, crying pitifully until Marie Perrault, our next-door neighbor, heard me whimpering and found me alone, injured in the house, before she took me to a doctor and helped me escape.

"Take this money and buy a ticket out of here, to your aunt's, perhaps?" she had suggested.

"Silly Erik, stop drifting off, you'll cut yourself!" Christine warned. I looked at her basket, which was half full as she leaped from tree to tree like a little squirrel, waggling around to cut apples down. I only had five.

"Oh yeah? I'm sure I'll be even FASTER!" I howled, accepting her challenge.

.::.

Night fell. I was tired, but I couldn't sleep, for whenever my eyes closed, images of my mother appeared, and I began to scream or cry out. At last, I walked warily into Meg's bedroom. It was midnight, and her candle was still lit as she read hungrily at her book.

"Meg, I can't sleep," I whispered.

She smiled, picking up both her candle and book, wordlessly walking into my bedroom.

I followed her back in, where she patted at my bed, indicating she wanted me to lie down again. I did her wordless instructions, and then I understood as she flipped back a few pages and began to read.

"Once there was a beautiful maiden locked away in a tower because her father believed that a witch would take her away if she did not stay far away. A handsome prince decided one day to rescue her, but the voyage wouldn't be easy. So he called upon the townsfolk, who all gave him offerings of good luck. At last, there was a young farmer man who loved to play music but was very poor...and he gave him an apple blossom. The prince rejected the gift at first, believing it to be infernal, and smashed it into the ground. The little ugly flower, however, had its own little seeds," she paused, taking in more breath, "and grew into the most exquisite and beautiful apple tree. When the prince returned with the fair maiden and saw this tree, he realized his error in misjudgment and rewarded the musical farmer with a violin. Some people say that in that same town square, the apple tree is still there, and at midnight when you press your ear against it, you can hear the strings of the violin."

After she finished, as a courteous, family love, kissed my bare forehead goodnight, but by that point I was too tired to respond, and immediately I drifted into one of the most perfect slumbers ever.

Only I wished I were as beautiful as an apple tree.

.::.

**Christine**

A springtime turned into summer, a summer into fall, then fall into winter. Before you know it, six years flew by. I was fourteen and just a hardworking girl, no longer anything like the childish, giggly goof I had been before. Meg was thirteen and Erik was sixteen, and together we did chores across our two farms. Famine came across the us for a short time...as a drought settled in our little hometown. I brushed hair from my face as I tugged at the ground, loosening it up once more for planting strawberry seeds. My nose snuffed in the resonating fruity-sweet scent, wafting through the air of the older bushes of the blood red berries that were already beginning to bloom with tiny white flowers.

I watched across the road as Erik snipped away at the higher up grass with large sheers, almost big enough to cut the fur off of every sheep in the nation.

"Morn', Erik!" I called. He waved from across the way. He wasn't wearing his mask, but I had long since gotten over the initial fright of the ugly, jagged cut scar from his forehead to his cheek bone.

"Bonjour, Christine! How's the strawberry crops so far?" he replied, raising his usually shy voice so I could hear him.

"Good! Take some home down to the Giry's when I'm done, er'body needs some to eat!"

With that, I ran inside to get my favorite basket to pluck berries off to give as a gift to Erik's cousin and aunt. But when I came inside, I realized Papa was in the kitchen. Papa never goes inside unless something was wrong or it was supper or bedtime.

"Papa, what's the matter?" I whispered, approaching him slowly before tapping his shoulder. I gasped when his skin was pale and ice cold, and he turned to me before stumbling and collapsing on the ground.

_"PAPA!?"_


	3. Chapter 3 - Boil Down

**Erik**

When I heard Christine scream, I dropped the barrel I had been carrying across the yard and ran for the door, flinging it I found Gustave Daae, lain on the ground and twitching without a sign of response.

A heart attack, I thought immediately, as I'd read about them in health books.

"Christine!" I said as calmly as I could, "We have to lift him into bed!"

The poor girl was sobbing at the top of her lungs as we wrapped our arms around him and carried him to the bedroom. Within seconds, Madame Giry and Meg upsurfaced from nowhere, coming to the aid.

"What can we do to help him?" Madame Giry asked me. I was shocked indeed, for it was usually I the one asking for assistance.

"For now, get a warm washcloth and...keep Christine away for now. She does not need to see this, it'll hurt her."

Christine shrieked, "No! I need to be with my papa! Please..." But it would do her no good. When Meg handed me the washcloth, I was alone at last with the dying Gustave Daae. I was the man of the place now...I would have to take care of him until his last breath.

"Erik, come closer." the man breathed through shallow breaths, his glazed eyes cracking and peering in my direction. I uneasily took steps forward, placing the rag on his forehead.

From his pocket, a little white leaved flower with pinkish-tipped leaves appeared. A apple blossom, like one from Meg's story.

"Take this. Please, it's my final gift from me...you'll need to take care of Christine." he let out a haggard cough.

"Yes sir," I whispered, numbly taking the useless bloom into my hand and holding it as if the world was in my palm.

"When at last in my afterlife I send you all you've ever wanted, take the petals and scatter them in the wind. Then, I will be at peace," he paused, and I leaned forward to feel his cheek, it was cold. I shoved the apple blossom away into a nearby drawer, as I didn't want to lose it.

I was puzzled by his words. All I've ever wanted? I already had what I wanted: friends. What more could have Mister Daae meant?

"And Erik...send in Christine."

I nodded, then grabbed the handle and opened it at a slight.

"Christine!" I called. The girl came in, sniffling.

"Papa, don't go...I love you. Please..." she cried, but as soon as she threw her arms around him, the man let out a long sigh, closing his eyelids forevermore.

.::.

**Christine**

Erik had moved in with me after that, he stayed in my papa's old bedroom to give me my space. I was still grieving, but there was work to be done on the farm.

We were sitting at the dinner table, fresh pork loins he'd cut and roasted himself, slathered and barbequed with apple cider on the side, when I noticed he was struggling to eat with his mask on.

"The master of the house does not require to wear a mask at the table. If it pains you so, take it off." I said bluntly. He looked at me, amber eyes blazing with bewilderment, before he slowly moved his hands to his face, pulling it off and staring me into the eye with nervousness I'd never seen before.

"Alright," I said clearly, ignoring his deformity with all the confidence I could muster, "Let us dine."

We picked up our glittering silver forks and knives, before clinging our glasses together for good fortunate and began to dine.

.::.

Winter came. Barrels of apples were brought into the house to keep from becoming frozen or thawed. In fact, our diet consisted mainly of apples and animals, but that was alright because there was plenty we could do with 14 different varieties of apples.

Erik took to hunting. He was now 17 and I was 15, and we were soaked to the bone from the cold snow. He wrapped his blanket around me and went off to fetch the Giry's.

Meg opened her book and read verses of poems. I cleared my throat and sang an aria while Erik played father's violin for us. Madame Giry smiled to herself, and I knew she missed when we were younger, playing outside without a care in the world.

"Maman," Meg asked, "Why do you look so sad?"

"Little Meg, Gustave would've been so proud to see you three coping so well and having fun despite the weather...he was always gloomy in wintertime, especially when his wife died in December from pnuemonia. Maybelle was a hard worker," she said distantly, remembering my mother. I agreed. My mum loved to work hard.

.::.

Another winter passed, then another and another, until at last I was twenty, tall and a legal woman. Erik was twenty-two, and we had grown up together, working hard on the farm. I still remembered the boy who was tall and smart, and very pure. Indeed, he retained all these traits, being six feet tall and thin and lanky, but equally as strong from all the labor.

Madeleine never did try to take Erik back. Part of this made me sad for him, not understanding a mother's love, but the other part was good, because clearly she was no mother.

"Erik, get the mail, will you?" Madame Giry called from across the road.

"Yes, ma'am, will do!" Erik hollered back, jumping off the cart he had been resting upon and hurried down the road. I stood in the doorway with Meg, giggling as I watched him run.

It had been long since the Giry's house on their farm and Erik and I built extensions onto our house so they could live here. Their old house we tore down, and used the land for more crops, such as potatoes and barley. We needed more things to cook then our regular diet of apples, apples, and more apples.

At last, after an hour of chopping wood, Erik arrived back, face looking grim. His hands were clenched in fists around a single letter.

"Erik?" I whispered, but his hands grabbed my shoulders as tears began to stream down his face.

"Christine, I've been drafted for the Great War." he whimpered.


	4. Chapter 4 - Crash and Burn

**Erik**

Suddenly Christine was hugging me. She was hugging me tight and refused to let go. And that's when this stirring feelings in my chest ignited into flames, and I lifted her chin and kissed her. I kissed her without a feeling of doubt, and to my shock, she didn't pull back. I did. And when I retrieved myself away, beginning to walk towards the house, her hands reeled me around again and kissed me.

Dear lord, now we were both crying, tears flying out of our eyes like no tomorrow.

"Please don't go, Erik...please, try to find a way to stay with me..." she sobbed. I had never seen her as upset except the day her father died. But here was this young woman, just became a lady, and was crying for me.

Why? I wasn't sure, but the next words that slipped her lips would scar me forever.

"Erik, I love you." she murmured, and her lips sealed mine for a groundbreaking third kiss. My head burned now with blissful thoughts as I did not let go.

"I love you Christine. I would die for you." I said with no remorse. It was evening now...one final night until I was sent off to war, they wanted me to arrive immediately to suit up.

She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me inside, before sitting me down on her bed while she searched desperately for something, which she pulled out to be a rose.

"This was meant as a gift for you when you first came into my life and blessed me with a new best friend. Papa told me otherwise because you'd think I was having a girly crush. Well, Erik, Papa's gone now, and there's more than a rose I want to give you..."

.::.

I awoke beside her before it was dawn. I pressed a kiss to her cheek, before redressing myself. No, I couldn't leave her like this...but I didn't want to wake her. I had to go.

I picked up the rose and lain it beside a velvet little box that had been my mother's, before scrabbling down a note and finally giving her one last glance.

"My Christine, you gave me everything, and I could die tomorrow for all I know," I said tearily in a raspy whisper, "Please be faithful to me, as I'll always love you."

With that, I left behind a shattered fragment of myself behind, a shattered fragment that one day might have been my wife. We had to both move on now, it was for the better.

.::.

**Christine**

"Erik?" I moaned, rising in a sitting position before throwing upon myself a dainty white dress and corset. Before anyone knew it, I was up and dressed.

The bed beside me was neatly folded, cold, and empty. Not a trace of him was left, in its place, my simple rose gift and a box...a box I had no clue of where its origins were.

Carefully, my lithe fingers entwined themselves around the neat little black velvet, before I opened it up, revealing the most dazzling diamond ring I had ever seen. The prized jewel was occupied in the center of a perfect ring shape lined with both gold and silver, and was a decent amount of diamond embellishments.

I began to cry as I opened his note, where it read:

_My Christine, my love, my life,_

_Duty has sadly called me for a full time draft as a soldier for the military. I hate to leave you on such short notice, but it had to be done. If you still hold the same feelings for me as I do you, please wear this ring and be faithful to me as I will always be to you. I love you so much it hurts for me to be apart from you._

_Do I pray I survive this, for if I do not I would loathe heaven for keeping us distant._

_I hope you love your Erik, for he loves you._

Sobs erupted from my lips, and I hushed myself to keep from awakening the Giry's. No! I had to find him and tell him I loved him! I didn't even get the chance to accept his proposal in person! I slipped the ring onto my finger, which fit like a southern bell.

I ran out the door, hoping maybe I was only missing him by a few seconds, but alas, I was met by the cold, empty night air, and no sign of my beloved.

"Erik!" I yelled into the darkness, to no reply.

"Erik, I love you! Do you hear me! _I will never give up on you_!"

.::.

**A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is short. I promise a longer chapter next time ;) **


	5. Chapter 5 - He Lives In You

**A/N: Hey guys, I've kind of been busy these past weeks (I'm in a play right now, having those Phan Pheels, stressing over an upcoming audition for Shrek: The Musical and all that jazz) so if my Phanfics seem kind of short recently, I'm sorry... I plan on writing another fanfic more like The Final Threshold but set in Persia with an OC whom some of you may be familiar with from my previous fanfics...first person to guess who this OC is gets to be mentioned in Chapter 7 of Summer Nights. :3**

**For my readers who never review, rather just follow and/or favorite my stories, I am not going to force you to review, but getting reviews other than my bestie, TNP, is nice because it encourages me to keep writing, as the same for many other authors. Due to lack of reviews I have been losing my passion in writing. It only takes 3 seconds to write a nice review and post it. If you start reviewing on my works, if you ask nicely, I will leave a review every 1-3 chapters on your fanfics. Because I really do enjoy reading new things (I adore the Phanfiction here, right now I'm in love with Angel in Winter and Hear All About It-if you haven't read either one you are missing out on amazing masterpieces D:).**

**Thanks everyone!**

-PhantomLilac

**.::.**

**Christine**

.::.

"Almost there, Christine, PUSH!"

I screamed in agony as my body felt like it had torn in two as all my might I pushed into one focal point, tears streaming down my beet red face as I began to sob. A wet bundle, wrapped quickly up into a towel, was suddenly being placed into my arms.

"A boy, Miss Daae. You have a boy. God bless you." the doctor said calmly. I sighed softly, putting the child to my breast to suckle. My arms grew weak as I stared into this child's eyes, which were wide open at an unnatural appearance, for they were bright gold, just like my Erik.

And he was not here to see his son.

.::.

**Erik**

I was out now, out on the front lines, firing into the endless crowds of enemy troops. I reloaded swiftly, gasping as a bullet whizzed past my ear. I rolled onto my side, dodging another.

I'd have to be careful. Winter blizzard swept away my vision line, and I carefully pressed further on in the snow.

"Long live America!" I screamed triumphantly, aiming my gun to fire. I pulled the trigger and missed my attacker by several inches, where he shot me down with a single bullet.

Searing pain was all I felt, and numb horror in my arm swelled and throbbed. My vision blurred, and I screeched in pain. The man was charging now with a bayonet, and its blade slashed across my back, torrenting me in useless cries before suddenly, the man's body slumped beside me, unmoving.

"You bloody...bastard...burn in hell!" I growled, before everything swirled into an unnatural haze.

.::.

I awoke to the smell of spices and herbs flooding my nose. I tried to move my arm, but it was bound in a tight sling. I started thrashing, howling for help, when all of a sudden, this Persian man walked in the room, carrying tea, which he placed at my bedside and felt my head.

"Who are you!? Listen to me, once I get out of this sling and learn your plans to kill me, you'll have to get out of here by tooth-and-nail-"

"Calm down. I saw you get shot on the battlefield and dragged you to my house. Be happy you didn't die," the Persian said arrogantly, taking a warm washcloth and running it onto my forehead. I gasped at how alluringly calm the scent wafting from this sodden scrap made.

"Why?" I croaked, then my eyes widened as I realized he was setting my mask on the table.

"Give it! Give it here!" I cried like a child. He saw me without my mask! He saw my scar!

The Persian shrugged.

"I cleaned it," he bluntly exclaimed, "And your scarring really isn't all that bad. I've seen men walk around in public with burnt off faces and hollow noses, faces like parchment. But you? You're fine."

I watched this man with curiosity as he began mixing herbs, forcing me to eat their foul taste. I gagged, coughing and sputtering afterwards.

"What's your name? I'm Erik. Erik Mulheim."

"Nadir Khan. I used to be a Daroga for the Shah of Persia. I left because my son died and I no longer had a purpose in life, but I found being a doctor here in France was quite worthwhile. In fact, I've had a lot of hope. I saw you fall and felt that it would be such a waste if your whole squadron would be slaughtered-"

"WHAT!?" I interrupted him, sitting up on my bed, but he pushed me back down. Squadron? Killed? Gone? I had so many questions, but my eyes began to grow heavy and tired as I fell back to a lying position, panting for breath.

"I'll tell you their fate when you awake. Sleep well, Erik Mulheim." With that, Nadir left me in the complete dark, frightened I'd never see anyone other than him ever again...

If I died here of my injuries, what would become of Christine?

.::.

**Christine**

"Here's yer mail, Miss Daae!"

The letter boy, Josef Buquet, handed me my mail before riding down the road on his bike. He lived about 20 minutes away, and often came down with the mail at the price of 3 dollars a week, but it was worth not having to go into town all the time just to get some papers.

After tending to Gustave, my son, I pulled out a black envelope with a military stamp. Oh gosh, was it news about Erik? I had to tell him about Gustave! Could he be coming home soon? He's been gone for a year!

Without any anticipation or desistation, I tore the envelope open as Meg overlooked my shoulder, grinning with excitement.

"Is my cousin coming home? Is he coming!?" Meg chirped.

_To whom it may concern,_

_Soldier Erik Mulheim, of the 7th District, 13th Squadron, has been reported as Missing in Action during a recent sabotage at his refuge camp. He has been searched for but no signs of his body have been found. Half of his fellow soldiers did indeed die within this battle. We are sorry for your potential loss._

I began to cry, tears rolling down my cheeks.

Erik could be dead. He was probably dead, or taken hostage. Either way, I was so scared that I started bawling and trembling, just like when my papa died.

"Oh...Erik...no..." I whispered, lips quivering as droplets brushed down my cheeks. I dropped the paper as Meg and I both cried in each other's embrace...my poor, poor Erik!


	6. Chapter 6 - Steps

**Christine**

.::.

Eyes meet. Ruffled brown hair, green eyes, a wry smile.

"I've met you before, have I not, farm girl?"

_A summer amongst the leaves... I was seven and a wealthy man inquired about buying three casks of our finest apple-berry wine, a specialty my father took to making for the best in America. It was our "fame" on our farm._

_The father and his son came and looked around. The boy and I played for a while, when his father took a liking to me._

_"One day, as long as we are both alive to see, our children will marry. A deal?" his father proposed. My father shook hands._

_"I would love to see them together. What a lovely couple they would make!"_

I looked up from the barrels of apples I had brought by wagon into town. Swaddled into a back holder was baby Gustave, whose crying had hushed.

_Shyly had we first come across, this boy and I. His smile was warm and sweet like sun heated honeysuckles._

"Your name would be, farm girl?" he asked, leaning against a rafter.

"I'm Christine, and whom might be your name, your majesty?" I replied teasingly.

"Raoul. I'm Raoul."

"Raoul?" I asked with a smile, but then I felt something grim stir in the bottom of my heart. I knew he would ask me to marry him, still to this day, even though both our parents are dead and our betrothal was over.

"Indeed I am, Christine. I saw you come into town, and I happened to have bought this extravagant ring..."

Oh yes, he was asking. I tried to hide Gustave, who was still in a that little pack around my waist and shoulders. My baby boy stirred but I closed my lips, scared to speak.

"Well, our parents may be dead, but, Christine, come with me! Marry me!" he said at last, holding the ring out to me.

Coldly and sadly, I shook my head.

"Raoul, this is all too sudden and-"

"Say no words. I know, I have flattered you beyond speech!" he triumphantly exclaimed, nudging it towards me. I turned it away back to him.

"I'm engaged, Raoul, to another man." I bluntly exclaimed, beginning to put away my things to head back to the farm. I swore he began to cry silently, or scream in his mind of anger.

"You'll...you'll regret this, Christine Daae! No one says no to someone as beautiful as I!" he howled, then stormed away, shoving the ring in his pocket and growling curses to himself. I watched him go uneasily, knowing he would swear his revenge. I only prayed he would forget and not carry out his devious hatred, but I knew it was coming, and I'd have to be ready if I were to survive his wrath.

.::.

**Erik**

I awoke to being unable to move from the soreness throughout my body. This Daroga was rubbing whiskey into my wounds. I could tell he must've pried out the bullets while he was sleeping, for the persistent dabbing of the wet cloth against my arm and back made me moan in distaste.

"Daroga, st-stop..." I grumbled, but he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, don't a ninny, Erik Mulheim, it's only a bit of whiskey to keep infections out."

I fumed.

"Listen here-ahhh..." I was cut off mid-sentence with shock as he began stitching one of the wounds closed. I bit my lip, my eyes watering as I tried to tough it out, but the pain was so immense that I let out a loose whimper.

"Don't worry. In three month's time you'll be up on your feet. Sort of."

"Three months!?"

Nadir shrugged.

"Based upon where your wounds are, your arm will heal but you'll have balancing issues in your back. Might need a cane. The arm wound...yes...definitely heal in time," Nadir paused, "in a sling for maybe a year."

"A YEAR!?" I swear, I was nearly about to faint. Oh, what kind of doctor was this man? He was so irritating...

"I have a fiancee to get home to...oh Nadir, please, can't it be sooner?" I moaned, my head flopping down into the covers as he finished. He shook his head sadly.

"I'm not sure. If I try to move you too soon, you will never walk again. Give it some time, you took some nasty gun wounds, but sadly I must reassure you...you will walk again, but with a staff. Even the finest doctors of all the world could not close your wounds forever."

I moped grievingly. Oh, if I couldn't walk properly, how would I do work on the farm without always needing someone to help me? I felt lesser than a man...oh yes, I was not even a man anymore, I presumed.

Christine probably married off to someone else by now. Why keep waiting for me?

.::.

**Christine**

"Mail, Christine! You've gotten a letter from the military about Erik!" Meg screamed with excitement, hurrying through the door with a perfectly wrapped envelope. My face brightened as I snatched the envelope from her hands, bidding her a usual thanks and she replies with a your welcome.

What could be inside? Whatever it was, I was hoping for the best!

I wanted so badly to hear that he was coming home.

I tore the top off, unfurling a small-printed text document with lots of words. It read:

_To the family and friends of ERIK MULHEIM:_

_A serviceman of Erik's division reported many dead and missing from the battlefield this past month. We hate to, and with great sympathy, report that Erik Mulheim happens to be among the soldiers missing in action. We promise we will not give up until he is found alive or declared dead. Other news to report is that it is highly possible he, among the rest of the survivors of the division, were taken hostage by enemy forces. We're sorry for your potential loss._

All the color drained from my face as I dropped the papers from my hand. I couldn't read any further of the information leading around the fact there was no more Erik.

I would never feel his arms around me. I'd never feel his tender kiss, his gentle whispers of love. I wanted it so badly of him...but he'd never give it to me again. This feeling of dread crept up in my chest. If he was alive, what was he going through?

Was he being beaten savagely, the rest of his face burned away? Was he being cut into a thousand pieces, his body burned in a mass murdering furnace? I couldn't think about it. I began to cry. I didn't even feel anything when Meg hugged me and began to cry too. My poor, poor Erik! And Gustave...oh, Gustave would never know his father...

This would be the worst day of my entire life.


	7. Chapter 7 - Colorblind

**Erik**

It tortured me so...to be unable to leave bed for at least 9 months. Nadir insisted that if I did not wait that long, I would certainly cause more damage to my nerves. The lune he was! Then, Nadir did weird things to my back I can't even explain.

"Now, try sitting up!" Nadir finally said. I groaned, gritting my teeth to keep from hissing in pain as I sat up, straightening my back and neck and staring him in the eye.

"Good. Now, we shall get you to walk."

"Daroga-"

"Do you want to go home?" Nadir retaliated, raising an eyebrow. How he pushed my buttons so! I growled in frustration as I kicked my feet out to the side, and tried to stand up, only to fall back on the bed and shriek in alarm. The pain that seared through my back was so immense, I wanted to cry.

"What have you done to me, Khan!?" I snarled, rubbing my hand sorely around the fabric of my shirt.

He rolled his eyes, handing me a staff with a skull carved on the top.

"Now...try walking with this...and if you can walk easily, I will escort you home."

Excitement and determination filled me now. I had to bite down the pain to prove to him I was tired of lying around, no matter how crazy he was! Grabbing the sides of the bed, I hoisted myself up, then secured the cane, taking slow and easy steps at first.

Walking was wobbly for me, but I soon remastered it. Then I walking at an average pace, which was good enough for Nadir, for he began clapping and smiling.

"Voila! I am a genius!" he proudly exclaimed. I snorted.

"More like, deranged scientist." I grumbled under my breath. Nadir kept smiling, before turning and leaving down the hall.

"I'm packing, we shall leave immediately. I've always wanted to live in America, you see, and treating you well is a one-way ticket!"

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes and ignore him, as I turned to pack away all of my things as well, or the little things I did happen to have.

Oh Christine, I'm coming! I'm coming home!

.::.

**Christine**

I didn't know how to go on living.

Everyday I tried to find a purpose, but without Erik...

I was an empty shell.

Now Gustave was crying from his cradle.

"Oh shut up!" I suddenly screamed.

Madame Giry whirled around the corner, eyeing me in bewilderment in concern, but I ignored her, continuing to argue with the one-year-old child who was still crying deliriously, deprived of the attention all babies so desperately needed.

"Shut up, stop crying," I began to sob, "You didn't know him! You didn't know your papa, so you have no reason to miss him!"

"Christine!" Madame Giry scorned, sending me away to coo and calm down the child. I threw myself to my bedroom, and like a child again, banged my fists and cried some more. Yesterday, I had gotten another letter.

_Once more to the family and friends of Erik Mulheim,_

_Because he has not been found for over 9 months like his captured squadmates, we are sad to announce we are declaring him dead until further notice. If found, please send a letter immediately to honorably discharge him from the military. Thank you, and we are again very sorry._

I had lost it. I had lost it completely, and I had grabbed my one black-and-white framed picture of Erik and I playing in the fields as children. My papa had taken the picture and given a copy to both of us because we were so full of life, and it made papa happy.

"Oh papa, you let him live with us and now you took him from me. You promised me an angel...and he's gone! Why!?" my face was streaming with crystal clear teardrops. At last, Meg arrived again with today's mail, and she came in the door and patted me on the back, but her face was once again sad.

"Christine, I got a parcel sent in today of some of Erik's things. I don't know who sent it...there isn't an address, but I thought since..." she paused uneasily, "since he's gone and all, you'd want it. I think his journal is in it."

I carefully opened it, and Meg gave me a hug, sitting beside me for comfort. Yes! That same photograph...the one I had framed. Inside was the other copy, which made me somewhat sad. And the only other thing in the parcel was indeed a simple little brown journal. I opened the front flap and began to read.

_Day One_

_It has only been one night and I miss Christine. Oh dear god, why did I have to be sent away to fight in this atrocious war, when I have someone I love more than life back at home?_

_Day Two_

_My squadmates think I'm odd because I'm really tall. They hate me because I wear a mask. One of them tore it off and screamed-_

I couldn't read this. I flipped through some pages.

_Day 508_

_We go to fight tomorrow. I have tried over and over again to send a letter to my dearest Christine, but they refuse to send anything over. I try not to cry in the night, for if I die tomorrow, what will happen to her? I love her so much I am dying...I am dying of a broken heart. Should I not survive this, I want her to have my journal, so that she can read every day and know I love her now and always. She doesn't deserve someone as hideous as me. She is as radiant as the sun and as dazzling as the moon. She gave everything to me for nothing...and for that she is the most beautiful person in the world. I wish I could tell her this in person-_

_I have to go. Commander is about to shut off the light power. Goodnight, and good morning if I am to survive this._

The rest of the book was blank. I flipped desperately through empty sheet after empty sheet, until...

I ran across a drawing. It wasn't an ordinary drawing. It was a beautiful sketch of the farm, lovely and in perfect detail. But oh, that's not the part that made me cry the most, it was the fact that he drew _me_, in the center. He didn't draw anyone else, but it was _me_, and he had every detail of me right. And as I flipped through further pages, they were all drawings of me, usually with a message such as "My dearest Christine". I sniffled, setting the book down.

In heaven now, I prayed Erik was safe, and well. I hope he and papa are happy in heaven, singing angelic music and playing the violin together like two old friends.


	8. Chapter 8 - Frozen in Time

**Erik**

Quickly we had boarded a boat to New York. I did not desire to see my mother, so I decided to avoid going anywhere close inside the main city. From there we would go on a train immediately and make it to a stop in Kansas. I knew the carriage would take me into town but the remaining two miles to home would have to be on foot. I didn't need rest-I needed Christine, and I wanted to go home now!

Nadir had fitted a new sling on my arm, for some reason it had gotten infected halfway through the process of healing and although the infection was gone, it would take longer for me to be able to function properly than it would.

We were sitting on the train now, as sleep lulled into my eyes dreamily, I thought of Christine and her perfect brown curls, her dimply smile and her sky blue eyes full of life, full of joy, when-

"So Erik, tell me about your home," Nadir tiredly inquired. I was grouchy now, for he had interrupted my thoughts, but talking about home could perhaps cure my longing temporarily.

"It's a sunny, remote farm out in Kansas, I told you this. We have acres worth of any apple you've ever thought of, berries growing wild along the edges and plenty of vegetables. Across the road is my Aunt Giry and Cousin Meg's joint farm, where they grow peaches and make peach cobblers. I myself inherited Christine's father's winery portion...I make apple-berry wine, though it's not quite like Mister Daae's..."

As I explained this, I realized Nadir himself had fallen asleep, and now so was I. I closed my eyes, ready to enter a world of happiness by the time morning came, for I'd be many steps closer to being reunited with my Christine!

.::.

**Christine**

Reading the journal the week before made me feel much better. Tomorrow, because the clouds were in a weird position, I knew it would lightly rain. Good. We were having a slight drought on the farm, and the crops were nearly going to wither away and die.

Wither...wither was a curious word. Wither like my heart, perhaps? For after reading the journal, my mask of happiness withered and burned away, just like my heart. I had no more feelings, emotions.

I could not even look at Gustave. I no longer told my baby son, "I love you," at night. I was afraid that one day I would tell Gustave I love him only to have the last thing I love, the child, killed in a war, just like Erik. There was bound to be another one some day in the future...and no doubt about it, Gustave would be drafted and die, and I'd be alone with the Giry's, all three of us grieving and sad, for the rest of our lives.

I no longer had faith in anything or anyone. Why should I? It was obvious the world hated me as much as the world had hated Erik. I lost everything within a few years time, first papa, then Erik, and even Raoul. Raoul had come back some time ago, trying once more to propose to me, but alas, when he saw Gustave, grew furious and told me I should just kill myself for having a bastard child.

Rather, that wasn't a bad idea, actually, but I had no guts to do so. Why should I be alive? When I'm such a loathing little mask...I was Erik's mask, hiding the deformity that was in my soul now. I needed him, Gustave needed his father as much as I wanted my Erik to be home.

But it would never happen, for Erik was dead. Erik was gone, he was nowhere anymore. He was part of the trees, the sky, and the grass. He was part of everything on the farm, and everyday for the past two years I saw him in everything and nothing. I saw him in birds, bees, and flowers. I saw him in puddles and sunshine. Yet the one part of him I never saw was himself, it was always a distant and faded reflection or image of him. And that's the part that killed me inside.

I began to slump in my seat on the patio. Oh, it was hopeless...a lost cause, perhaps. Erik wasn't coming home ever. I just awaited the casket of his skeleton to return, so that I could bury him in the old family grave a few minutes' carriage ride away, full of the Daae's and Giry's ancestors. Yes, for I would never rest until I found him-dead or alive.


	9. Chapter 9 - The Puzzle Piece

**Erik**

I was there now, in town, when Nadir and I hopped off the carriage and began walking. I staggered tiredly on this dumb staff, every bone in my body hurt so horribly I wanted to fall over and die, but NO! I COULDN'T! I had to get to Christine!

Nadir rebalanced me with a hand on my shoulder for support briefly, noticing I almost tipped over.

"Erik, you're going to get really hurt. Take a quick rest?" he suggested. I shook my head, eyes widening in delirium.

"I have been resting for the past year doing absolutely nothing. I don't care if I break every bone in my body, my true love is waiting for me on that farm! So if you're going to badger me the entire walk there, then take a trip back to Paris!" I snapped angrily, and kept walking. Nadir calmly crossed his arms, keeping pace with me.

"Don't listen to me, I'm just a doctor." he sarcastically replied, though it was quiet and nearly hard for me to trace his words, but I still heard, and my frustration and determination boiled.

"I'm sorry, okay!?" I sighed in defeat, slowing to a halt and leaning against a cobbled old tree, yawning slightly with each breath. Nadir felt my forehead with the back of his hand.

"You're burning up with a fever. I insist, rest for a few minutes. If you fall asleep I'll wake you up, but you are seriously going to get hurt otherwise. I shouldn't have dragged you so far out in a short amount of time."

As he had said, I had already began to grow sleepy. When Nadir shook me awake at least thirty minutes later, a light rain began to fall around us. I groaned as I was helped to my feet, the staff placed back into my right hand.

"And off we go. Don't let the rain bother you," Nadir mumbled. As we trekked on, at last, in the foggy morning rain, I could at last begin to see a silhouette of my home in the distance, the apple farm! A smile crept on my face at last...I was only moments away from being reunited again!

.::.

**Christine**

As I predicted, it was raining lightly. I was out in the apple orchards, picking fruit from a tree branch.

One.

Two.

Three. Into the basket.

One.

Two.

Three.

Into the basket.

One.

Two...

I saw a shape move from the corner of my eye. At first, I did not recognize the black spot, but as I turned my head and focused, it was the shape of a man, no, two, but nonetheless, two strange men walking at some distance towards the farm.

I could not see exactly what they looked like, but one was lanky and tall, and the other maybe a few inches taller than I was, but no more than the first man. I hopped down from the tree cautiously. Probably some lowly travelers, I thought, as I began to pick up any fallen apples and put them away.

But no! I could make out the shape of a staff and a sling. Whoever it was, the first man was injured badly, but I could see the shape of a white mask! Oh god, could it be!?

It was! I began to cry as I ran forward with the last of my strength from this morning's harvest. I must've sounded like a madman to my beloved, but it was him! It was Erik!

I threw my arms around his waist, crying into his chest as he wrapped his good arm around me as well. I could feel his tears dripping down onto my scalp, but I didn't care. He was alive!

"Erik," I cried his name over and over, while he wept into my grasp, every inch of us covered in morning rain and tears. This was my fiancee, the father of my child, my true love, just like a storybook knight in shining armor.

"Christine," he whimpered, "Dear god, I missed you so much. I won't ever leave you again, I promise!"

As I looked up into his eyes, which were wide and sleep-deprived, bright amber as always, I knew I had to tell him all about Gustave, but first, he needed to come home.

I took him inside, while his Persian friend, I invited to also take a seat. Meg and Madame Giry babbled over Erik constantly as I snuggled him onto the sofa, refusing to let go of his waist as he breathed unsteadily and answered all the questions his aunt and cousin had to ask.

"What happened to you?" Meg gasped. Erik smiled softly.

"We were on a forefront in France when someone on the enemy lines shot me once in the arm, twice in the back. Nadir somehow found me and took me to safety while much of the rest of the division were killed off brutally in war." he said, world-wearily. At last, I let go.

"I have something very important to show you, love. Stay here, I'll bring it to you." I murmured, leaving a kiss on his cheek. He didn't question me, even though it was clear he was confused.

I went into the baby's bedroom, before approaching the cradle. I picked up the stirring child in my arms, before whispering an apology. Gustave accepted my grasp as I held him tenderly, before coming back into the living room.

I approached Erik cautiously, not sure of how he'd respond.

"This is your son, Gustave Erik Mulheim. I gave him both of your names because I was scared you would never come back. The military declared you missing in action and then proclaimed dead...he needs you to hold him," I cooed gently. I saw a look of awe and grief cross my fiancee's face as in his good arm, he held his son for the first time. Now he was crying again, but not out of sadness, out of joy and beauty, for now we were a family, together, at last.

.::.

**A/N: One more chapter, I promise, and then an epilogue. Thank you my loyal readers!~**


	10. Chapter 10 - Summer Nights

**Erik**

Silently at dawn, I crept away from my bedside with Christine. This time I was only leaving her for an hour or two, there was a promise I had to do.

From the dresser, I reached in and pulled out the one object I required, stuffing it in my pocket. As I walked away, I looked over my shoulder and smiled, for Christine was sleeping evermore soundly, her body tucked into her pillow very quietly.

I could look at all of her beautiful features, this beautiful girl who would soon be mywife. I stared over to the cradle where my darling son was asleep...but it wouldn't be long until either of them awoke. Retrieving my narrow staff, Islowly left the room and out past the patio. I needed a tree to sit and just stare...stare out into the night.

At last I came upon a good-sized tree. Just because I couldn't walk properly did not mean I couldn't climb, I decided. I dropped the staff gently at the bottom of the brown trunk, before clambering up every step of the way.

Before you knew it, I was up on the top of the tree. It wasn't small, but it wasn't big either. I just needed to watch the sun rise.

For at least two hours I perched, unmoving, watching the big glowing orb begin to peak at the edge of the horizon. Now was the time. From my pocket I reached, pulling out the one item I had kept hidden all these years...

It was Mister Daae's apple blossom. Oddly enough, it was still fully bloomed, not an inch of it wrinkled or withered away, which surprised me immensely, but I kept my superstitions at bay. I now understood exactly what his prophecy had meant. I truly now had everything I had ever wanted.

Dimples faded onto the corners of my lips as I placed a kiss to the petals softly, holding it out to the wind and plucking the petals one by one.

"Goodbye, old friend, and thank you for giving me Christine," I whispered to the hushed white spots that now vanished from my vision. It was true. I was happy at last.

"Erik!? Erik, where are you!?" Christine yelped from somewhere nearby. Oh! I had been out too long, she must have grown worried for me.

"I'm up here," I called back, beginning to climb down, when I reached the trunk, her eyes had been stained with tears. I scowled now, confused at her emotional response.

"Why are you crying, my dear?" I murmured, cupping her face with my hands. She shied away, face paling.

"I thought you'd left me again, and I was scared of losing you," she responded sadly. I stared her in the eyes, her beautiful, beautiful blue eyes, and made sure my smile returned to my face to reassure her.

"Look here Christine. I'm yours," I purred, "I'm yours, and I'm never ever going to leave your side again, and now we shall go have breakfast!" I clapped my hands together, retrieving my staff once more. She tilted her head to a side.

"Erik, you're forgetting something."

I turned back around to face her, but my moment of solitude was only for a second, for her lips claimed mine in a perfect, passionate kiss. I moaned as I wrapped my arms around her back, before letting out that faint words that were able to stop any heart...

"I love you, more than my life."

.::.

**Christine**

My wedding day was perfect. After our long, heartfelt vows, we had a kiss that sealed our fate as star-crossed lovers forever.

At the reception, suddenly there was silence as I realized Raoul had attended my wedding. I had sent him an invite, but I didn't expect my childhood friend to come. There was no sense of immaturity or haughtiness about him, he merely looked Erik in the eye with wisdom flashing through, and said, "You better take care of my Little Lotte, good sir."

Then Raoul was gone. I couldn't help but sigh in relief, for at last Raoul had accept my decision.

It was around this same time that Meg and Nadir announced they were engaged and were to wed in December. I cheered them on-they were so cute together, and it would be a happy marriage for them both.

I sat out, alone on the patio. It was late, and I was tired, but I wanted to stare at the full moon on my wedding. I heard the door open, and I looked to my right to see Erik coming out to sit beside me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and I lain my head on his.

"Why are you sitting outside in the dark, alone? You aren't meant for darkness, my Christine, that is my fate."

I snorted at his remark.

"You aren't meant for darkness either, Erik. You're too heavenly to be about."

"Oh really?" he chided sarcastically, before pressing a kiss to my cheek.

"Can we just enjoy the last night of summer?" I mumbled. He rolled his eyes, continuing to kiss my knuckles. I realized I was defeated, so I added, "Okay, let's go to bed then."

We went inside, careful not to disturb the now two year old Gustave in his little bedroom across the hall. As we lain beside each other, I sat up at last, beginning to undress. He raised an eyebrow suspiciously, before I giggled slightly.

"Now, we must continue where we left off, before the war, shall we?" I crooned.

In reply he said, "I might quite fancy that."

And in bliss we spent together, the most beautiful Summer Night.


	11. Epilogue - Happily Ever After

**A/N: Here I present the (rather short) epilogue to end Summer Night's story. I want to thank my wonderful reviewers for inspiring me to continue and finish this story, I'm actually quite proud of it.**

**Now, I have some news to tell you all about my next fanfic. I hope a lot of you are familiar with probably the best fanfiction I've ever written, The Final Threshold. If not, the link is in my profile page. Well, because when I wrote it, it was so popular, I have decided to elaborate more on the story. **

**You guessed it! The Final Threshold will be getting a midquel, which will be my newest story. Basically, the idea is that after Erik and Christine moved their family to Virginia (Again, if you are confused by this concept, I encourage you to read The Final Threshold. I won't force you to, it is a bit odd and hard to get into), Phillipe deChagney's wife dies, and knowing Raoul has died, Phillipe wants to take Christine away (including the children) from Erik, and goes through a series of torment and deception to attempt to steal her from him. I felt I had rushed The Final Threshold and made it seem like they had too much of a mary-sue-ish life after the main story, so that's all about to change muahaha.**

**A future project of mine will be the promised fanfic, Jewels in Persia, and I have another interesting fanfic idea I might do before that, but no more spoilers! ;)**

**Thank you again, my loyal readers, and hope you enjoy this ending!**

.::.

**Erik, Journal Entry, Day 3087**

"Amber! You slow down!" I shouted, trying to hobble to catch up with my four-year-old daughter as she attempted to race me across the farm. She laughed, tumbling into the grass, where I scooped her up and nuzzled her cheek affectionately.

"You silly little girl," I teased.

"Aw daddy, I'm not silly! Mama says I'm cute!" she whined.

"Cuter than a button, sweetheart," I murmured. Gustave looked up from where he was picking berries for harvest.

"Amber, come on and help pick strawberries, please," Gustave groaned. Amber's little blue eyes lit up with excitement as she hobbled over to her older, twelve year old brother, who smiled now.

From somewhere nearby, I heard the twins playing with their wooden swords.

"No fair, James, you struck and severed off only a finger, not a whole arm!" Cadence squeaked. From around the corner I watched the two, trying not to laugh at how ridiculously strange their way of playing a game was.

James laughed, pretending to be an evil villain.

"Of course I got your arm, because I'm evil and you're supposed to be the victim this time, remember?"

"Aw, you always get to be the bad guy!"

"What did I tell you two about fighting over these wooden sword games?"

Now Christine had gotten into the picture. My wife crossed her arms, snatching the swords from both children and narrowing her eyes. I came around the corner at last, a wry smile submerging onto my lips.

"They're kids, Christine. Let them play as they want to-just James, let your sister have a turn." I argued. I took one sword out of her hand, then added, "En garde!"

Instead, my wife pointed to her swollen stomach. I had almost forgotten, of course, we were expecting another child.

I handed the large sword back to my little golden haired daughter, who then squealed in delight.

"Thanks, papa! Love you!" she gleefully thanked, then ran at James as the two acted out a game of knighthood and chivalry.

Meg walked outside, looking around as her shy little boy poked his head out, then charged at James and Cadence, before all three children laughed and fell to the ground. A year after the twins, both ten, had been born, then Meg and Nadir had been blessed with this boy, whom Nadir had requested to be named Reza, after his last son. Meg was expecting another child in spring, and the couple was hoping for a little girl.

I was happy for my cousin and her family. But not as happy as I was beside Christine.

As I write in my new journal for a last page, I provide for my "diary" a final look on life:

No matter what the cost, fight for your love. If you know the person is the one, you are dead positive they love you back, fight with all your might to stay beside them, now and forever. I made the mistake of letting Christine go, and it took me nearly two years to get her back at my side. No longer am I lonely, hated, abused, but I have the love of my life who looks upon me without fear or loathing, for she is my Christine, and I am her Erik. I am blessed with four, soon to be five, beautiful children, a home, family that loves me, friends who adore me, and the best of all, waking up to see my wife's perfect eyes staring back at me with nothing but brimming love.

I do not desire to write any longer in my journal. I only have this in order to share day by day my life for my children, who one day, as I lay dying, will finally know the sacrifices their mother and I gave up so they could live.

Goodbye to my closest friend, my notebook, and hope you serve well when the time comes for my passing.

- Erik Mulheim

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**The End**


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